


growing up in a collar

by deaddog (pretztail)



Category: No Fandom
Genre: Original Story - Freeform, Original work - Freeform, PTSD, Parental Abuse, Trans issues implied, Trauma, first person POV, no characters - Freeform, poem
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-06
Updated: 2020-07-06
Packaged: 2021-03-05 06:42:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,640
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25100089
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pretztail/pseuds/deaddog
Summary: freedom still wasn’t freedom to mefreedom was a rope tied to a stake in the groundthe rope was called fearand it will always be fear,as long as I still have the collar-this isn’t a fanfictionthis is a short story/long poemforgive any formatting errors, I am posting this from my phone
Kudos: 1





	growing up in a collar

**Author's Note:**

> This was written in one sitting, in my notes app on my phone. 
> 
> warnings for metaphors relating to abuse, both emotional and physical, and dysphoria implications.

I was caged at a young age  
with a collar that was stiff,  
tight,  
and barbed  
that bore the name that never felt mine  
begging for scraps when I heard footsteps  
I scratched at the necklace like it burned  
like holy water  
because I was always called a demon  
but i was never violent

One day,  
more pups arrived  
in red and green gift boxes and bows  
the new whelps were handfed and coddled,  
wearing supple leather collars that fit them right  
and didn’t seem to be bothered by the sound of their names  
I watched for years  
And envied them  
while they still wore the mark of ownership  
but they at least had freedom

one day,  
the cage lock broke  
being free felt like a sin  
still never learning how to fend for myself  
still begging for scraps under the table  
I stole what I wasn’t given  
I fended for myself amongst the rest,  
And took what punishment was given  
I was never offered the same things the other pups were  
And when bones were thrown at me  
I swore I could hear laughter

the others left to sleep with the owners  
I was told to sleep under the bed,  
like I was the monster underneath  
but knowing they slept in comfort above me,  
rubbed me the wrong way  
instead I took to sleeping behind the couch,  
where no one would see  
me clawing at my leash

One day  
I found a toy  
it wasn’t the prettiest toy,  
but it was my toy  
it was damaged,  
worn from wear  
just like me  
it gave me a comfort I hadn’t known  
I hid it under my couch  
knowing what would happen if they saw  
but of course they saw  
they chided,  
saying “that toy is so ugly”  
the owners found it too  
and took it from me  
when I didn’t meet their demands  
I was so scared to lose it again  
when they tried again,  
I lashed out  
you will not take this from me  
It was only then did I find out  
that the hand that feeds  
is also the hand that hurts  
my only solace taken  
and only returned in incriments  
only when I did what I was told  
knowing that they could always take it again on a whim

My collar loosened from wear  
the callouses on my neck protecting me from the barbs  
it wasn’t freedom,  
but it was relief  
pretending the chain still hurt the same  
lest they notice my relief  
and fit a new one instead

I was getting good at hiding my comfort

I hear more laughter  
when they slam the door  
I yelp and hide behind my couch  
my only relief  
from the loudness that echoed through the house  
it reminds me all too much of them shutting  
the door of my cage

one day, they let me outside  
then the next day  
then the next week  
Outside was always forbidden  
I was committing treason  
for being allowed to do what others could do  
but the wave of freedom still wasn’t freedom to me  
freedom was a rope tied to a stake in the ground  
the rope was called fear  
and it will always be fear,  
as long as I still have the collar

my collar now hurts again  
I’m growing,  
wearing a chain that is two sizes too small  
that is never replaced  
breathing is hard,  
I cannot speak up  
The way I need to  
but not impossible  
To breathe 

I can’t imagine  
how a new chain would feel  
would it hurt more?  
would it feel better,  
if the new one fit me right?  
would I miss the old one?  
I don’t know  
what I would want the alternative to be

hands try to touch me now  
over and over  
recoiling from the touch  
that I never knew  
and being lashed at for my phantom pain  
from hands grazing my burning skin  
Fingers trace my scars  
and I bark,  
but the hand grabs the rope  
And yanks it up as I whine,  
choking  
yelling at me,  
I own you,  
I will touch you as I please  
and the whelps laugh at me  
they don’t see how  
Those hands could ever hurt

i’m lucky,  
i’m told  
we could easily hurt you,  
and yet we choose not to  
even if the violent touch was rare  
and I should be grateful that it was  
it didn’t stop  
the softer ones  
from feeling like holy water

sometimes,  
there is comfort in the hands  
a comfort that felt forbidden  
a second of relief,  
a doubt that everything wasn’t the way it was  
but seconds pass  
and I’m back to feeling burned  
by the touch of the ones who love me

newcomers arrive  
it’s strange  
they smell so different  
it makes my mind wander  
the smell reminds me of outside,  
of the areas that the rope couldn’t reach  
where the grass was always a brighter shade  
it shares the same scent,  
something I cannot reach 

the new people sometimes stare at me  
longer than they do the others  
The other dogs who are more friendly,  
happier,  
and unburdened,  
with puppy eyes that all humans fell for  
so exactly why  
would they look at me?

these strangers compliment me  
and tell the owners so  
there is a mix of pride and confusion in their eyes  
proud of my existence but confused in how  
I could be worth such words  
I agree with my owners  
because  
what made me worthy of those words?

the strangers hands that reach out to pet me  
bring more comfort to me  
than the hands of my own kin  
Their hands make me think that  
there must be a way to chase after them  
must be a way to follow them home  
maybe they would let me sleep on the bed

sometimes,  
the chain gets taunt  
when I let myself rest  
when I allow comfort  
the owners don’t like it,  
yanking on the leash to stand on all fours  
they say I’m lazy,  
that I’m a worthless,  
worthless dog  
who isn’t allowed comfort  
and is given smaller portions at dinner  
everyday that I am not the way they tell me to be

I imagine the collar gone  
I know that even if I lost the chain  
I would always have the scars  
but the wire and the name that is not mine  
would no longer define me  
but I don’t know what I would do  
if the chance was offered to me  
I always dreamed of,  
But never considered  
the repercussions of true freedom

one day,  
the door was left open  
I feel a rush  
a possibility to break free  
I’ve never felt tempted to try  
Until this very moment  
I had never rebelled before  
I did not know how they would act  
So I bide my time,  
watching,  
and waiting

the next day,  
the door was open again  
I took note of my owners,  
gauging their actions  
I was a master at reading their tone  
and interpreting their next movements

the next day,  
the door was opened even wider than the last  
I saw no threat,  
no obstacle in my way  
I ran as fast as my legs could carry me  
into the street  
hearing the screams well behind me  
Accompanied by the barks of my siblings  
a car swerves and honks  
just barely misses me  
but I made it across  
and into the bushes  
my weak muscles gasping  
choking on oxygen and my tight collar

once I was away  
and the rush wore off  
my bones ached,  
physically and mentally  
and the next feeling was the looming feeling  
that I would regret my actions

everyday,  
I hide in a new place  
avoiding the townspeople  
who could very well help me,  
if I was nameless and naked  
but I had a name,  
it was just one that wasn’t mine  
I ran from the stares  
for I knew if they saw me  
I still wore the clothes  
that identified me as theirs

I’m hungry,  
but I grew up a scavenger,  
and make do with what I find  
I try and try to chew the collar  
I’ve always known deep down  
I could never be free without it  
but now there’s posters on the streetlamps  
even if I could remove the chain  
it wouldn’t matter  
as they now know my face too

I’m returned by a family  
with a sweet little girl  
who plays with my ears  
and kisses my nose  
she doesn’t call me by my given name,  
because she can’t read  
and tells me I’m the prettiest puppy she’s ever seen  
the house is warm and smells like clean linen  
if only they had kept me instead

even if I’m no longer in my cage  
there’s a cage around my heart  
and the air feels the same as it did inside the crate  
the taste in my mouth the iron from my blood  
that tastes just like the metal bars

I’m told by a shrill woman’s voice  
That I am all too familiar with,  
that if i ever lost you again,  
I would die  
I would kill myself,  
because you ran away  
what would I do without you?

and so,  
from that day forth  
the door never opened enough  
but I don’t know that if  
the opening was there  
that I would have the heart to do it again  
I still ask myself why she would die  
if I ever left her sight

my collar is loose again  
for the first time in years  
because of the weight I’ve lost,  
and the battle of me stretching the leather  
over the years  
I’ve given up fighting it  
it’s apart of me,  
and only can be removed  
by the hand that refuses to free me  
for what I did that one time  
(they will never let me forget)  
the one time I tried to run.

**Author's Note:**

> this story is supposed to have a happy ending, but there isn’t one
> 
> if you live in a collar, or ever have lived in a cage, I love you. 
> 
> I hope you keep chewing the chain that binds you and find the solace you deserve


End file.
